


New Year's Eve

by grogudjarin



Category: Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Post-Wonder Woman 1984 (2020), Seriously so Soft, Wonder Woman 1984 (2020) Spoilers, maxwell loves to dance, no yn, soft! maxwell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28444518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grogudjarin/pseuds/grogudjarin
Summary: Maxwell Lord was a busy man, and you suspected romance wasn’t high on his list of priorities.And yet, you couldn’t help but foster a crush for him. It was ridiculous, he was more than twice your age, and had a ten year old son. But you didn’t see that. You saw his deep brown eyes which were always so expressive, his immaculate hair and his perfectly groomed designer suits made him the object of your fantasies. But nothing would ever happen between the two of you. He probably didn’t even remember who you were. He definitely wouldn’t know your name.* * *In which the reader ends up at a New Years Eve party with one of the most infamous businessmen in the world and discovers, among other things, his love for pop music and dancing.
Relationships: Maxwell Lord/Reader, Maxwell Lord/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	New Year's Eve

It was almost 1986, and you could hardly believe that another year was over. You had been working at Black Gold Cooperative, as a junior assistant since you were still in college, for around eighteen months now. You knew of the big boss Maxwell Lord - it was impossible not to, given his exploits during your tenure there - but had only encountered him a handful of times. Since the events of the previous summer, he had spent less and less time at the office. What he had gone through the previous summer had put things into perspective for him, and he was spending more time with his son, and less time making money.

Which was fine by you. You were still getting paid at the end of the day. It just meant that every time he did come around, it was an  _ event _ . He would sweep through the office, and suck all the air out of it. Everyone’s heads were turned towards him. He was captivating and magnificent. Your colleagues would throw themselves at him, giggling excitedly and attempting to shake his hand and make small-talk. You would roll your eyes at their endeavours, and he would usually rebuff all of them irritatedly if he was particularly preoccupied. Sometimes he would humour them, though. Maxwell Lord was a busy man, and you suspected romance wasn’t high on his list of priorities. 

And yet, you couldn’t help but foster a crush for him. It was ridiculous, he was more than twice your age, and had a ten year old son. But you didn’t see that. You saw his deep brown eyes which were always so expressive, his immaculate hair and his perfectly groomed designer suits made him the object of your fantasies. But nothing would ever happen between the two of you. He probably didn’t even remember who you were. He definitely wouldn’t know your name.

However, there were a few times that he had crossed paths with you. And you remembered each one in vivid detail.

One time, only a few weeks after you had started working for him, you had been on your way to another floor, and were so startled at his presence as he made his way back into the office after a meeting in his immaculately pressed light blue suit, that you almost bumped into him and dropped the stack of papers you were carrying all over the floor. He had chuckled, the moment seemingly providing him some relief from an otherwise hectic schedule. You expected him to continue sweeping through the corridors, but to your surprise, Maxwell Lord gazed into your eyes and offered to help you. You said it was okay, but he insisted and crouched down to your level as you scrambled to collect everything together, ensuring the papers remained in the correct order so as not to be reprimanded by your senior. He was patient, and didn’t rush you, and even sorted them by number alongside you. You noticed his golden pinky ring glinting in the light of the office corridor as his strong hands moved to sweep up the papers. And then, he smiled and wished you a good day. And he was gone. 

It was almost like a dream, and you would have been so sure it had not happened were it not for the fact that one of your colleagues had been right behind you in the corridor, seen it happen and proceeded to make fun of you for it. You could never live it down. 

Other times when he came around, he would stop by your desk and chat to you. Flirt with you just a little, you felt, just like he flirted with everyone when he was in the mood. Smiling at you, and complimenting whatever you were wearing that day. But you were always terrified to reciprocate, you didn’t want to take anything the wrong way and do something to jeopardise this job. You were using it to pay your way through college, you desperately needed it.

If anyone ever found out about your crush on Maxwell, not least him, you would be mortified. Even hearing whispers that he was due in the office would cause you to blush, and you were constantly on edge that people would sense your feelings towards him. And when he came in the office, your stomach did backflips, and all you could think about was him. It seriously hampered your productivity, which was not good. And when you saw him, it felt like winning the lottery. The way he would move his hands so expressively and sometimes raise a hand to comb it through his light blond hair. It was little details like that that you pictured in your mind every night before bed. But it was just a harmless workplace crush. It would never be anything more. 

The occasional chats were nice, but they had only happened a few times throughout the year, and it was never anything more than small-talk. Even if it was flirty, he had done it to everyone at some point. Still, you felt it was nice that someone as rich, powerful and important as Maxwell Lord at least made some kind of effort with his employees. And since the events of the summer of 1984, he had been far more generous to his employees. Of course, the Christmas bonuses were nice, but the vacation time between Christmas and New Year was even nicer. 

And it was during this vacation time that something unexpected happened.

One afternoon, you were sitting in your modest apartment in the city, sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV. You lost all sense of time between Christmas and New Year, and it was nothing more than a time to watch endless movies, eat chocolate and reheat leftovers. Your roommate was out with their significant other, so it was just you at home.

The phone rang, and you skipped over to it excitedly, expecting your daily phone call from your family. But it wasn’t your family. A familiar voice was on the other end. The smooth, deep voice of Mr. Lord was unmistakable, and you felt your cheeks grow hot. It was a few days after Christmas, and you wondered what he possibly wanted.

“Hello, I hope you’re enjoying the holidays. I’m sorry to disturb you. But I wondered if you would be prepared to come to the office this afternoon. I’m in here catching up on work, and I could use some help organising papers.”

At once, a million questions fluttered around your mind.

_ THE  _ Maxwell Lord had personally requested for you? How did he even know your number? 

Why you, specifically? There were far more capable employees that had a closer relationship with him. But he knew your name, he knew your number... and he wanted to see you. Right away.

“I’ll pay you overtime, of course.” Maxwell added, as you realised that you hadn’t actually answered him. 

“Oh, of course Mr Lord. I’d be happy to help. I can be at the offices in around 40 minutes?”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.” He replied, smooth voice slightly crackly thanks to your beaten up receiver.

After he hung up, you stood there by the couch, mouth open in shock. What the hell was going on? A man you had a ridiculous crush on wanted to see you, personally. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. With a start, you remembered that you had promised him forty minutes, and with a twenty minute subway ride and five minute walk at either end, that did not afford you much time to make yourself presentable. Thank God you had already showered that morning.

As you fretted over what to wear — casual or business — your heart was beating so hard you could hear it pulsing throughout your skull. It was a mixture of anxiety and excitement, and his words “ _ I’ll see you then,”  _ kept going through your mind. You were finally going to see him, the object of so many fantasies of yours. And it was so out of the blue.

After getting ready and checking yourself over in the mirror, giving yourself a little pep-talk in the process - “you GOT this!” - you practically ran out of your apartment and skipped down to the subway station. Christmas decorations still adorned the houses on the way, and it was one of your favourite times of year. You loved the lights and the cheeriness they brought. 

Once you had made your way down to the platform and boarded the first train that showed up, it finally hit you who and what you were on your way to. You had made this journey what felt like a million times, on your way to walk. But everything seemed different now. Even though the insides of the carriage were the exact same, somehow it seemed as though they were in a different light. Plus, you had never felt quite like this on your way to a regular day of work.

As you approached the impressive office building and walked through its luxurious lobby, you were stunned by how deserted it was. You guessed Maxwell was in his office, and took the elevator upstairs. By this point, it felt as though your heart was about to burst out of your chest, and you fought the trembling in your body that had overcome you.

You walked through the top floor of the office building towards his office, which you had never been in before. You could see his silhouette through the foggy windows as you approached the door. You raised your hand and knocked twice, gently at first.

“Come in.” A familiar voice beckoned.

You took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold into Maxwell Lord’s personal office.  _ Wow _ . What a moment. Yet, surprisingly, it wasn’t as big or luxurious as you expected. The shelves were lined with books, and you noticed the photo frames which contained pictures of his son that lay on his desk.

He greeted you, and to your shock, he actually used your name.  _ Maxwell Lord knew YOUR name? _ This was too much to process.

“It’s good to see you.” He smiled at you.

You were confused, this did not feel as though you were about to start doing any work. In fact, as you scanned his desk, you realised there was nothing remotely work-related on it.

“Oh, yes. Well, I must confess that I asked you here under false pretences. We won’t be doing any work this afternoon.”

You were hesitant, almost fearful now. Maxwell Lord had quite the reputation when it came to his behaviour and relationships towards his office assistants. You had heard the rumours and seen it firsthand with your colleagues. Many of them did not last particularly long in the job once they had served that particular purpose, and though Maxwell’s behaviour had changed for the better somewhat since the events of 1984, he was still a man with needs at the end of the day.

You turned your gaze back to his, and nodded nervously in acknowledgment of his admission.

“I would like you for you to accompany me as my date to a New Years party I have been invited to on Tuesday.” Maxwell said, smoothly.

Your heart stopped. You asked him for confirmation, certain you had misheard Maxwell: “As your what?”

He smiled, and took a step closer to you. You could feel Maxwell’s hot breath on your face as he uttered the next sentence, confidently, voice unwavering: “As my date.”

“A date?” You stuttered, “But, how do you even know I like you?”  _ Or that you were single for that matter, _ you added in your head.

“My dear,” he started, breath still hot against your cheeks, “I have girls throwing themselves at me every day I enter this office. Everyone who works for me admires me, and would do anything to be on the receiving end of my attention.” He flashed that winning smile that once used to be seen on TV screens across the country, and the world. 

He was cocky, but you weren’t annoyed by it. It was intimidating, and intoxicating. To be the sole object of this man’s attention was electrifying, and adrenaline coursed through your veins as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. The way he looked at you made you feel like you were the only person in the world. It was almost embarrassing.

“Mr. Lord, I wouldn’t know what to wear, or how to get there. I—“

He cut you off, he raised his hand to stop you mid sentence.

“Don’t worry,” he admonished, “I will take good care of that, my sweet. You don’t need to worry about a thing. I have someone who can take you shopping, and my driver will pick you up from anywhere you want in this city, or beyond its borders for that matter, on New Years Eve.” He smiled at you again. You felt lightheaded.

“Me? I mean, are you sure you want me?” 

He laughed at that, and you blushed even harder. You felt like your face was suddenly an oven, it would have been mortifying if you did not feel so at ease in his presence.

“I have wanted you since the first second I saw you.” Maxwell said, eyes gazing at you intently.

_ Wow.  _

Before today, you didn’t think he even knew who you were. You could barely stand up, your knees felt shaky and like they couldn’t support your weight. This felt like a dream, and you were expecting to wake up at any moment.

* * *

Three days later, you found yourself on the arm of Maxwell Lord, a rich, famous and powerful man who had shown an interest in someone as unremarkable and ordinary as you, as the two of you made your way into the extravagant New Years Eve gala. It sounded like something from a movie.

Your outfit was comfortable, yet definitely showed off your best features. The day after he had asked you to be his date, Maxwell had sent a car to your house with his PA inside who had accompanied you to the store. It was infamous as one of the most luxurious brands in the city, and you dread to think how many months’ rent would be spent on your outfit. They were expecting you, and handed you a selection of outfits that Maxwell had recommended. You tried them all on, and both the stylist in the store and his PA helped you choose. It was a difficult choice between two, but you eventually settled on something that was classy, yet also comfortable. That was important to you.

And Maxwell certainly seemed to approve. Though you had not felt the need to seek it, when his limousine pulled up outside your apartment block and the buzzer sounded, he scanned your body appreciatively as you answered the door. It made you blush even more, and despite the way you played off his interest in you as cool the other day, it was pointless now to hide your crush. He looked incredibly handsome with his hair as neatly combed as ever, gold jewelry glinting in the light from the streetlamps, and a two piece suit with its red bowtie.

To be honest, you were nervous about the party. You had never been particularly good at socialising with others, and small-talk terrified you. You knew that this party would be full of the upper echelons of society, the richest and most powerful people in the city. You were just a junior assistant, a college student. You didn’t feel worthy of being here. Yet Maxwell certainly seemed to think you belonged.

As the cameras flashed all around as you entered the hall, you realised with a start that anyone could see those pictures. No doubt they would be splashed across the papers tomorrow. What would your friends and family think if they saw you with a man twice your age? 

Maxwell sensed your unease.

“What’s the matter, my dear?” He asked, concern etched across his handsome features as he looked down at you.

“I-- I’m just worried in case people I know see pictures of me with you. I--uh, I didn’t tell my friends or family about tonight.” You said

“There’s no need to be concerned. The editor is my friend, he won’t publish anything without my permission. I’ll make a phone call tomorrow.” Maxwell smiled at you, reassuringly, “But I hope you aren’t ashamed of this. I want to spoil you and show you a good time, but I also want you to have some fun.”

You felt so cared for and safe in his presence, and appreciated his assurances. But there was not more time to dwell on it as you entered the main hall of the party. 

It was incredible. Neon lighting as far as the eye could see, trays of drinks were carried around by waiters and music blared from the speakers. This was going to be a good night, you could feel it.

Maxwell was immediately swarmed by people wanting to greet him. He was like Moses, parting the sea of people. Everyone turned to him and gave him their attention, and he politely greeted those who sought his recognition. He made some small-talk with colleagues and acquaintances, but all of his attention was on you. Making sure you had a drink in hand at all times, and that you were okay by his side. You were certainly touched by this caring side. Although you had seen a glimpse of it the day he helped you scoop up your papers, he had always had the exterior of a tough, no-nonsense businessman. 

After a few glasses of champagne, both of you had loosened up somewhat, and Maxwell wanted to dance. But it was not sophisticated formal dancing as you had expected, no. You discovered that underneath his tough, businessman exterior, your boss adored pop music. He was jumping around, swinging his hands excitedly as I’m Still Standing by Elton John played. It was quite the sight, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his goofiness. He was so childlike in that moment, something you never would have expected from a man who, not too long ago, was possessed by a constant desire for more. You soon discovered that Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody was also a personal favourite of Maxwell Lord’s, as he sang along to every word and swayed his hips to the beat.

After your impromptu dance session, the two of you sought some more refreshment in the form of a glass of champagne, and a seat at one of the tables which surrounded the dancefloor to give your feet a rest. You had certainly earned it.

“I didn’t know you could dance like that!” You exclaimed breathlessly into Maxwell’s ear, having to lean close to be heard over the music, as the two of you sat down at the round table with white table cloths on it.

“My dear, I love to dance. It is exercise both for the body and the mind, but the soul too.” He smiled, “And I love dancing with you.”

You stared into his eyes, his hair was slightly dishevelled, and you had an urge to push it out of his eyes and back into place. His jacket was long gone, and he looked so handsome in his white shirt with the sleeves pushed up his tanned arms slightly. He was beautiful.

At that moment, Every Breath You Take by The Police came on, and all around you couples began to sway in each other's arms. Maxwell looked at you, his eyes full of some emotion you couldn’t quite place. You had never seen him look like that before. The corners of his lips curled upwards, and he rose from his seat. He walked around to your spot at the table, and extended one of his large hands to you.

“Care to dance, beautiful?” He smiled. 

How could you refuse?

Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was just him. But in that moment you felt so at ease when you were with him, that placing your hands around his neck as he placed his around your waist felt so natural. 

He stared into your eyes as the song continued, and you couldn’t help but think how the words fit you perfectly. He had been watching you, without you even knowing.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Maxwell said, his usual confident demeanor had been replaced by something a little shier.

“You have been on my mind so many times throughout this year. Ever since I helped you pick up those papers at the end of last year, I have fantasized about this moment - about drawing you close and holding you in my arms.”

The intensity of his words took your breath away, and you weren’t sure how to respond.

“And now I finally am, and it is exactly how I dreamed you would be. My dear, I have been watching you this entire year. It’s been the most delicious agony, every time I came to the office I wanted to approach you, or make a fuss of you somehow. But I have always backed down, afraid, like a coward.” Maxwell closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them and gazing at you intensely. “My New Year’s resolution at the beginning of the year was to kiss you. Now, it’s almost the next year. I have ten minutes left, and I am DETERMINED to keep my resolution.”

Before your brain had time to fully register what Maxwell had said, a pair of warm lips were upon yours. It was slow and gentle at first, before the pace picked up and his tongue slipped inside your mouth. You went weak in his arms, your legs felt suddenly shaky and unable to support your weight. Your fingers tangled in his golden-brown hair, and his hands roamed up and down your back. It was passionate and steamy yet gentle and tender. And it was so public, but you didn’t care. Gone were your earlier inhibitions and reservations. You didn’t care who saw what Maxwell thought of you, and what you thought of him. 

A few minutes later, when the clock struck midnight, golden confetti rained down from the ceiling. Maxwell placed one hand on your waist, another on your cheek and leaned in to meet your lips. It was just as passionate as before, and you grinned against his lips in sheer ecstasy. _ He likes you. _

After you pulled apart, he combed a stray piece of confetti out of your hair, and smiled at you, before resting his forehead against yours. 

“Happy New Year, my love.” Maxwell whispered, hot breath against your mouth and cheeks.

“May this be the first kiss of many.” He added.

You couldn’t think of a more perfect way to begin the new year.

_ The End _

**Author's Note:**

> it's 4am as i'm posting this so sorry about any mistakes. also i wanna dance with somebody wasn't released until 1987 but allow it xxx
> 
> you can join me in my maxwell lord induced brainrot on twitter @grogulovebot (mainly sw tweets though, but im here for pedro!)


End file.
